


Then There Was We

by AstroGirl



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey writes a letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then There Was We

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a ficathon where the challenge was to write something inspired by the lyrics to a song by a particular artist -- in this case, Barenaked Ladies. I ended up with a song called "Ballad of Gordon"; you can find the lyrics at the end of the story.

Dear John,

I would not want you to think that I am resentful about being confined to the interior of this dumpster. Indeed, I have furnished it, appropriately enough, with discarded scraps of your memory -- I'm particularly fond of the carpeting, which I believe comes from an apartment you briefly inhabited when you were three -- and it's actually become quite cozy, in a certain, ah, Oscar the Grouch sort of way.

However, given your refusal to let me out so that we might have a face-to-face chat like two civilized beings -- or however many beings we qualify as, a matter which might be open to some debate -- I have no choice but to resort to less efficient means of communication. And they say letter-writing is a lost art.

Of course, the greeting on this particular correspondence is really rather ironic. I understand from your memories of old World War II movies that a "Dear John letter" is written as a means of breaking up with someone, whereas my hopes are for something more along the lines of... Dare I say a reconciliation? Well, a negotiated truce, at the very least.

You see, while confined to my cozily-appointed trash receptacle, I've had a great deal of time to think. And, yes, if I may anticipate your response, I am aware that I have been thinking with _your_ neurons, and that you feel considerable resentment about the fact. However, it is this very point that I wish to address.

As you are aware, I was never intended to remain once the chip which contained my original personality template was removed. Indeed, the neural bleedback which caused me to take up residence in your gray matter _ought_ to have been quite impossible. Here is the important point, John: _I_ did not impose myself upon your brain, at least not in this permanent fashion. Instead, it was _your_ neurons that rearranged themselves to accommodate me, reshaping themselves in such a way as to echo -- if you will, recreate -- the patterns they found on the chip.

In other words, John, however subconscious the act, in a very real sense... you _invited_ me.

And, given that fact, it must be said you have not been an especially gracious host. Oh, I admit _I_ haven't been a terribly good guest. In particular, I deeply regret that little, ah, suicide attempt. But let us be honest with one another. That particular decision was hardly unilateral on my part, was it? I assure you, it won't happen again. I no longer wish to die, any more than you do. Indeed, given your penchant for foolish, self-endangering actions, I'd say my desire for survival is even greater than yours.

The hostility and resentment you feel towards me, John, only work against your own self-interest by depriving you of a useful ally. They are also -- I'm afraid there's no polite way to say this -- based on sheer, unreasoning prejudice. The truth is, you hated me before you ever knew me. I am _not_ the chip. I'm not entirely sure at this point exactly what I _am_, but I know that I feel... different. I remember the things I did -- the things the _chip_ did -- clearly, but at some remove, in much the same way as I remember the life of Scorpius. It's rather like remembering a book which I found utterly engrossing at the time, but that I've now long since put back on the shelf. You can understand that, surely? And may I remind you again that having access to someone who _has_ read and understood the Book of Scorpius could provide an invaluable advantage?

You see, John, there is no need for us to be enemies. Rest assured, I _will_ eventually emerge from this dumpster, one way or another, but if released, I fully intend to act in an entirely benign fashion. I certainly have no reason to wish you harm, even apart from my desire to preserve my own existence, which depends entirely on preserving yours. The fact is, John... I _like_ you. Yes, it comes as a surprise to me, too. But the more I experience of the inside of your mind, the more I find to astonish and delight me. Memories of songs, of movies, of Earth -- it's a lovely planet, John, and I hope we'll see it together someday -- of _pizza_! And let us not forget the women! I've even come to enjoy the strange, twisting paths of your thought patterns, the flashes of insight and intuition. The -- if I may wax poetic -- lush ridges and furrows of your cerebral cortex. I could spend a lifetime in here exploring. Unobtrusively, of course!

So, what do you think, John? You and me? Partners? Friends? Companions in arms? Or at the very least, amicable roomies? I promise to do my share of the chores, and never play the stereo too loud. Hmm?

Yours Always,  
Harvey

_Harvey looked over the letter one last time, nodded in satisfaction, folded it up into a paper airplane and aimed it at Crichton's language-processing center._

_Moments later, the lid of the dumpster lifted, and a crumpled piece of paper fell unread at Harvey's feet. He signed, tossed it onto the pile with the others, and started again. _

_"Dear John..."_

**Author's Note:**

> **Ballad Of Gordon**
> 
> There was darkness, there was light  
> There was day and there was night  
> There was wrong and there was right  
> And then there was me
> 
> You didn't even know me but you treated me like dirt  
> You didn't even know me but you called me a jerk
> 
> I'm from a planet near a star you wouldn't know  
> It's very far  
> They're calling me the man from Mars  
> And I think they're insulting me
> 
> They tried to take my special suit  
> They say my head looks like fruit  
> [What's fruit?]  
> Put your hands up or I'll shoot!
> 
> I don't have hands  
> Across the galaxy I flew  
> Heard a peaceful message sent by you  
> Now I hear you're judged by color and size  
> I can't believe what you call my eyes
> 
> I'm the guy who sailed the sky  
> But I think I'd like to live here  
> Like to share your mountains, share you trees, and share your rivers  
> I've never seen so many beings of so many colors  
> I'd like one day for you to say that I can call you brother  
> [Then there was we]  
> I'd like to learn about your pizza and your weather  
> And we could learn about how beings live together
> 
> So if you're thinking about being a spaceman  
> It don't matter if you're black or white,   
> Or purple or green or blue or red or   
> Yellow with polka dots on your head  
> Or made of snow or made of wheat  
> Or looking like something that's kind of a treat  
> I like your hat.


End file.
